finity is an incorrect concept
by anaplasia
Summary: All Jo knows is that Meg is kind of lovely and her voice is like syrup and she's more than just a little dangerous.


_You only know what I want you to,_

_I know everything you don't want me to._

Jo Harvelle is an optimist by nature, and it's the one trait of her personality that confuses her. Surely, since there are monsters everywhere she turns, surely she should drink as much as the hunters she serves at the bar? Surely. But she doesn't. She hunts and hopes and helps her mother out at the Roadhouse as often as she can. Sometimes, she even manages to live a little, beating other hunters at card games if the stakes are high enough.

But for all Jo seeing the good, in everyone and everything, she isn't quite sure what to make of Meg. If Jo's honest with herself, she doesn't know anything at all about her. Apart from the fact that she's kind of lovely and her voice is like syrup and she's more than just a little dangerous (a hypnotic kind of danger).

_Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine,_

_You think your dreams are the same as mine._

They are something of a freak accident, the two of them: completely wrong for each other (and Jo thinks that this should probably stop them, except it doesn't). Nobody quite knows how they met or came to be. Jo thinks it might have been during a card game, or one of those nights when the lines between right and wrong were blurred by drink. All she remembers is how Meg walked in like a tornado and suddenly Jo didn't know anything apart from that the room felt too hot and her head was spinning too fast and that Meg was smirking at her from the corner of the room. Everything after that was colour and light and sparks and that feeling of being _alive _that had them both coming back for more.

_Oh I don't love you but I always will,_

_Oh I don't love you but I always will,_

_ Oh I don't love you but I always will._

Jo finds it nothing short of hilarious that she'd almost bolted for the door the first time she'd seen Meg's eyes turn black. Meg had laughed at her, in a sort of sarcastic way that said _well, what were you expecting_? That was the moment when Jo decided that Meg was more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen, and her being a demon would not, would _never_, change the fact that she wanted her. (To let her go so easily would be stupid).

She tries to label them, sometimes, and gets as close as _something _before she gives up and realises it's hopeless. There is no word for what they are, and there never will be.

_I always will._

Their (too) brief meetings are held in motel rooms and alleyways and pretty much anywhere they can find that looks uninhabited (they can't afford to be fussy, because if anyone found Jo and a demon together, they'd probably kill them both). They manage to stare for a few seconds before Meg pounces, melds their mouths in such a way that both of them are immediately breathless and panting and itching with a useless _want _beneath their skin.

Jo always finds herself thinking that should probably do something to stop Meg, but she can't. Meg is a one-way ride off a cliff, Jo knows this perfectly well, but she lost whatever control she ever had over herself a long time ago. Jo can't stop herself; she always gravitates towards things that are bad for her. It generally ends in a fucked-up mess, and she always tries to forget, but she is intelligent enough to realise that nothing can ever be completely erased. Finity, after all, is an incorrect concept.

_I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back,_

_The less I give the more I get back._

(It's not very fair, but fairness is overrated).

_Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise,_

_I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you._

They end up as they always do, skin sliding alluringly over skin, shallow gasps and stutters filling the silent, stale air. Their bodies fit together perfectly. Colours dance before Jo's eyes, Meg's touches alighting like simultaneous ice and fire on her skin. And just before everything crashes down, before their worlds burn, Jo wonders just what the point of all _this_ is. Then there's nothing but black and something like ecstasy.

_Oh, I don't love you but I always will._

_I always will._

When they are finished, Meg lets loose a laugh and entwines her fingers with Jo's. It's a strange laugh, one that you might give in the aftermath of a disaster (which is quite appropriate, considering) and so infectious that Jo can't help but join in. Time bears little relevancy as they lie there, side by side in the darkness.

Eventually the sun rises and Jo gets up to hunt, and Meg leaves and goes back to whatever it is that she does. But they won't forget, and Meg will be the only thing on Jo's mind until they next meet. Love, lust, need, taking, giving (all of it. Now. Forever, even. Their actions have made them infinite beings.)

(And perhaps that's all that matters.)


End file.
